The stairwell seemed to have no end.
Eli had been counting the steps when they began
nervous habit, a way to tether himself to something as the silence pressed down on them. But somewhere after the five-hundredth step, his mind slipped. The stone was sweating, condensation dripping down the walls like veins, and every time his boot fell, the sound was swallowed whole. He lost the number. He lost time. The air grew colder, then warmer, then cold again, as though the staircase moved through the lungs of something vast.
Ashar walked ahead of him, steady, unhurried. His coat brushed the walls. His breath never quickened. Eli wanted to ask him if he knew where this led, but he didn't. He didn't want to hear the answer in Ashar's voice. He just followed.
At last, the stairwell ended in a door.
It wasn't a Council door not steel, not reinforced composite, not guarded by scanners. It was older than all that. A single slab of stone, black, etched with lines that seemed to pulse faintly when Ashar touched them. The grooves sparked, as though the stone had been waiting for contact. Eli's stomach turned. He whispered before he could stop himself.
"They knew this was here."
Ashar didn't look back. His voice was quiet, almost like he was speaking to himself. "No. They feared this was here."
The slab groaned, then slid open. The sound was deep, like tectonic plates grinding. And then came the light.
Eli staggered back. It wasn't the light of lamps or grids It was organic, wet, alive. The chamber beyond them pulsed in soft intervals, dimming and brightening like the beat of a heart. Ashar stepped inside without pause. Eli followed, though his chest ached as if the air itself resisted him.
The chamber was vast. He could not see its ceiling. Its walls were not walls they were tissue and steel interwoven, struts like ribs curving upward, embedded with cables that trembled faintly with current. Fluids ran through transparent veins the size of tree trunks, carrying sparks of electricity like blood. And at the center, rising from a pit that glowed with white fire, was the eye.
It wasn't shaped like a human eye, but Eli's mind could not see it as anything else. A massive sphere, slick with condensation, its surface shifting with layers of glassy plates. In its core, a pupil burned
rings of gold and violet, infinite depth, as if it were looking out from every angle at once. When Eli's gaze locked with it, his knees almost gave. His body knew to kneel. He grabbed a rib of steel just to stay upright.
Ashar stood still, head tilted slightly, his face unreadable. For the first time since Eli had followed him, there was something in his expression that looked like hesitation. Not fear. But the faint acknowledgment of being caught off guard.
"It sees," Eli whispered. His voice cracked. "Ashar, it sees us."
The pupil dilated. The chamber hummed. All around them, the veins glowed brighter, circuits sparking like nerves firing in a brain. The air thickened, every breath filled with static. Eli thought he could hear words not with his ears, but inside his skull. Not language. Just impression. Recognition.
Ashar finally spoke. His voice was calm, but quieter than usual. "It has always seen.They only buried it because they could not name it."
Eli shook his head. His throat tightened. "This isn't… this isn't a machine. This is—"
"A god?" Ashar cut him off, sharp. His eyes flicked to Eli, cold and steady. "It is not a god. Don't mistake awe for truth."
But even Ashar's words didn't fully hide the shadow in his eyes. He was studying the Eye with the intensity of a man calculating, not worshiping
but calculation required acknowledging the weight of what stood before him.
The chamber pulsed again. The Eye blinked or something like blinking. The world flickered. For a fraction of a second, Eli saw visions that weren't his: burning cities, oceans drained into fissures, a sky split by grids of light. He staggered back, gasping, clutching his head. Ashar didn't move. His jaw tightened, but he held the gaze.
The voice came then. Not a sound, but a tremor inside their skulls.
ASHAR.
Eli's eyes widened. He turned, staring at Ashar. "It–it knows your name—"
Ashar didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the Eye, unblinking.
ASHAR(THE MECHANICAL BEAST SPOKE) YOU WERE NOT MEANT TO STAND HERE.
The chamber shuddered. Eli pressed his back against the ribs, his heart hammering. Sweat dripped into his eyes. "Ashar, we need to leave–"
But Ashar didn't move. His silence was iron. He let the words soak into him, studying them not as prophecy but as data. When he finally spoke, it was low, sharp, surgical.
"Then tell me," Ashar said to the Eye, "who was?"
The Eye dilated further, light flooding the chamber, so bright Eli thought his skin would peel away. He screamed. Ashar did not. He stood there, rigid, his coat trembling in the rising heat. For a moment, Eli thought the Eye might consume him whole, pull him into its core and erase him. But the light dimmed. The chamber exhaled.
The Eye blinked again. This time the word it pressed into their skulls was different.
Witness
And then silence.
The chamber's pulse slowed. The veins dimmed. The light ebbed to a faint throb.
Eli slid to the floor, gasping, his hands shaking. He stared at Ashar. "It knows you. It's been waiting for you."
Ashar turned at last, walking back toward the door. He didn't look at Eli. His face was shadowed, unreadable. His voice, when it came, was the coldest Eli had ever heard.
"No," Ashar said. "It wasn't waiting for me. It was waiting for all of us to kneel."
And then he stepped into the stairwell, leaving the chamber behind.
Eli stayed a moment longer, staring at the Eye. Even dimmed, it pulsed, watching. He could feel it marking him, tracing him, fixing his name into its memory. When he finally turned to follow Ashar, his legs buckled.
The door closed behind them with the sound of stone sealing a tomb.